Questions
by terrified
Summary: :: CONTAINS SERIES 3 SPOILERS :: A one-shot. In a moment of vulnerability, Sherlock asks Molly a question she'd never expected him to ask. It was too late to ask anyway.


A/N: _I had planned to write this Sherlolly fic to cheer myself up. And it was such a fun, promising premise when I began. However, it turned out a lot more depressing than I had imagined. But well, it's not far from the truth, is it? For any additional heartache caused, I really am sorry. _**_This one-shot is spoilery and heavily references The Sign of Three. Avoid this one-shot to avoid spoilers._**

* * *

><p><strong>Questions<strong>

It was getting boring.

John was taking forever in the toilet.

_Will this bloody…table stop…rocking…_ thought Sherlock to himself. The world seemed to be swirling around him and the loud music was starting to turn into muffled thumps and strange, mechanical sounds.

"So…boring…" muttered the inebriated detective.

Sherlock reached clumsily for his mobile phone and began to text. Nobody could be sure if this was an act of consciousness or not. An act of subconsciousness, perhaps? His facial expression was that of forced concentration as he frowned painfully, peering into the light emanating from the screen of his phone.

_Molly hello Molly_ - SH

He stared at the screen and imagined her response popping up just as swiftly as his had appeared in its little speech bubble. Unfortunately, it really was just his imagination.

_Molly Molly I'm talking to you Molly hello Molly…_ -SH

He was just about to type another impatient text, lamenting her delay in her response when the little speech bubble he had envisaged finally popped up into reality.

_Yes, Sherlock? You okay? _- MH

_Molly Molly Molly Molly…_ - SH

_Yes…? _- MH

_It is so boring and noisy here and this table keeps moving I don't know what to do about it _- SH

_You're drunk, Sherlock. _  
><em>Wait.<em>  
><em>How could you be drunk? <em>  
><em>I thought we calculated everything perfectly. -<em> MH

_Molly Molly Molly of the Hooper clan I am not drunk_ - SH

_Yes you are. - _MH

_Molly Molly Molly Molly… - _SH

_Do you need help, Sherlock?_ - MH

_No I am fine I just want to talk to you - _SH

_Right. What about?_ - MH

_It's so boring here let's talk about things let's have a discussion_ - SH

_Okay. What are we discussing?_ - MH

_Tell me about you Molly. Are you in love why are you in love…._  
><em>Is it love? What is love Molly… -<em> MH

_Why are you asking me this?_ - MH

_Because you're in love I remember you were in love you are so happy and beautiful now and you are in love like John you are going to get married marry marry marry except you are not marrying mary… - _SH

_I'm going to go now, Sherlock. _  
><em>You are too drunk.<em>  
><em>A bad time for discussions. - <em>MH

_NO TALK to ME Molly Molly molly please please molly_  
><em>What is love why do you have it <em>- SH

_It's not something you would understand_. - MH

_I understand everything I am a consoling detector I know everything is it like ash/? because i know ash….. - _SH

_Haha…no, Sherlock it is not like ash. I think you should go home. _  
><em>And not text me until you are sober<em> - MH

_But i want to text you Molly hooper…. - _SH

_You really shouldn't._ - MH

_i want to text you i have questions for you tell me things molly Please…_ - SH

_Sherlock, this isn't funny anymore._ - MH

_you sound angry… _  
><em>Don;t be angry why are you<em>  
><em>Angry? - <em>SH

_I'm not angry, Sherlock._  
><em>Just concerned.<em>  
><em>Get home safe, please.<em> - MH

_are you concerned because you love me molly hoopery…_  
><em>but you can't love me can you there is tom<em>  
><em>no you can't can you….. - <em>SH

_Sherlock, you don't know what you're saying._  
><em>I'm going to go now<em>. - MH

_you don't love me that is why you are going_ - SH

_If you can tell that I love, or don't love you, then clearly you know what love is._ - MH

_no i don't molly how can someone like me know _- SH

_You're right. I guess you don't know then_.  
><em>Goodnight, Sherlock.<em> - MH

_Molly do you love me please tell me if you do_ - SH

_Why should I tell you if you don't know what love is?_ - MH

_cause i don't want you to not love me molly hooper_ - SH

_Goodnight, Sherlock._ - MH

_molly do you love me molly_  
><em>just one word molly<em>  
><em>yes or no…<em> - SH

_You tell me, Sherlock_.  
><em>You tell me..<em>  
><em>Goodnight. Get home safe. x - <em>MH

_you love me_ - SH

_Maybe. _  
><em>Ask me again if you remember this conversation.<em>  
><em>Goodnight. x - <em>MH

* * *

><p>Molly turned her phone to silent and put it out of sight. She exhaled quietly and tilted her head back, sinking further into her pillow.<p>

"What's the matter?" asked Tom cheerfully, planting a kiss on her cheek as he got into bed next to her.  
>"Texts…um, work…texts…" Molly answered, smiling back at him.<br>"Well, you're off duty now…" Tom said cheekily. He reached for her, turning her face so he could kiss her.  
>"Not…now, Tom."<br>"What? Why? You were the one who wanted to come home early…"  
>"I know, I know, it's just…."<br>"It's just what?" asked Tom.  
>"I…er…I need to settle something…" Molly said, suddenly reaching for her phone again.<br>"I don't understand…"  
>"Work…things. The texts…remember? Work texts…" she was already out of bed, and slipping out of her bedclothes into warmer clothes.<br>"Fine. See you later." Tom said, rolling his eyes as he reached for the remote and flipped the telly on.

Molly couldn't be bothered to say anything. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her phone and rushed out of her flat, frantically trying to hunt a taxi down. She finally spotted one and hopped quickly in.

"Where to, miss?" asked the cabby.  
>"Baker Street. 221B, Baker Street." she answered.<p>

-

When he came stumbling in, Molly, who sat quietly on the stairway, was surprised. She had expected to wait all night, past midnight, but it was only half past nine.

"Molly!" he exclaimed, in unnatural good cheer as he staggered towards to her.  
>"Wow, careful there…" she said, extending her arms out lest he fell on top of her. Thankfully, he collapsed into a nice heap just beside her on the stairs.<br>"Where's John?" she asked quietly.  
>"Mary…taxi…dropped me off, they did…John's asleep….haha, asleep…" he said, chuckling to himself.<br>"_How _did you get so drunk?" Molly wondered as the famous Sherlock Holmes squirmed uncomfortably beside her.  
>"I….I am not drunk Mollery Hoopery…."<br>"It's _Molly_…." she said.  
>"Yes yes yes…Molly Hooper…Mo-lly Hoo-per…."<p>

Molly sighed. She gently pushed his messy locks out of his eyes and touched the side of his face. He was _plastered_. She let out a small laugh as she looked at him squirm and grunt about. Who knew that Sherlock Holmes could look this ridiculous? There was something awfully endearing about all this.

"Molly…." he said. He could barely open his eyes now.  
>"Yes, Sherlock?"<br>"You love me…don't you, Molly…." he murmured.

Smiling to herself, Molly managed to coax the deadweight of a detective up onto his feet and ushered him to his room. As he lay on his bed, dead to the world, Molly managed to remove his shoes, undo his scarf and peeled his coat off him. That was as much as she could do really. She brought him a glass of water and tried to get him to drink some. After five calculated attempts, she succeeded in sitting him up and waking him sufficiently to take a few proper sips.

"There," she said, covering his curled figure up, "Now you can sleep."

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><p>When Sherlock woke the next morning, his head hurt as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. But when he saw the tiny note on top of his neatly folded scarf, it felt as though the same sledgehammer had slammed his heart into pieces.<p>

_In case you remember;_  
><em>Of course, I do, Sherlock. <em>  
><em>But you can't.<em>  
><em>And so I won't.<em>  
><em>Not anymore.<em>  
><em>x<em>

* * *

><p>She looked so beautiful at John and Mary's wedding. The spring sunlight danced around her dress that was the colour of sunshine. But Sherlock only allowed himself one glance, one tiny glance.<p>

What was love, anyway?

As Sherlock watched Molly link arms and exchange happy kisses with the man she was slated to marry, Sherlock affirmed the one truth he knew of love:

It _hurt_.

No question about that.

**End**


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